


Bittersweet Vow

by cjjade



Series: Kinktober Flash Fiction Project (2020) [9]
Category: The Old Guard (Movie 2020)
Genre: Angst, Fluff and Smut, Hand Jobs, Kinktober 2020, M/M, Mutual Pining, Nicky carries so much guilt, Nicky is depressed, Nicky is sad and withdrawn, Oral Sex, author tried to stay historical accurate but probably failed, set about 20 years after 1099
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-10
Updated: 2020-10-10
Packaged: 2021-03-07 21:07:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,037
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26924086
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cjjade/pseuds/cjjade
Summary: Day 9 of Kinktober; Nicolò and Yusuf love each other, but neither realize the other feels the same.  Set about two decades of their first death.Just your normal "How did they get together" story, while trying my hardest to stay as close to historically accurate as possible.
Relationships: Joe | Yusuf Al-Kaysani/Nicky | Nicolò di Genova
Series: Kinktober Flash Fiction Project (2020) [9]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1947481
Comments: 5
Kudos: 195





	Bittersweet Vow

**Author's Note:**

> Flash Fiction is a story written and edited within a time limit, usually one hour. 
> 
> May come back to this one, did not get where I wanted even with three hours and no editing. I totally had an ending planned, but didn't get close. So may do a sequel to this in the future.

**Prompt: Abstain/Vow and/or First Time**

**Time Limit: 3 Hours**

**Trigger Warning:** Just in case, Nicolò does hurt himself, and does experience some negative almost suicidal thoughts, nothing too graphics and the scenes are short. 

**Bittersweet Vow**

Nicolò di Genova was lost. 

Sighing deeply, he looked down to his hands, not too long ago he had thought these very hands were doing God’s work. That he had been led here to liberate the holy land from the unworthy, that upon his death he would be freed of all his earthly sins and promised eternal life in heaven. Now as he looked down at those same hand, as he lifted them above the fire feeling the skin burn the pain seared through him. As he lifted them again to watch as they healed just as quick as they burned. Leaving not one scar nor mark that would show he had burned himself just moments ago. 

Nicolò felt nothing, not anymore. 

Yusuf was in the closest town, Nicolò had decided it was best to stay behind. Most people in this area looked at him with fear while others looked with pure hate, which honestly was warranted. After the last town, after nearly getting Yusuf killed because someone had tried to protect their village from the Crusader and Yusuf had attempted to sway them. Nicolò had decided Yusuf should go into town alone, it seemed the peaceful option. Yusuf had argued but Nicolò had made up his mind. The moment they saw the cross on his chest they deemed him an enemy, and in return Yusuf. 

Which again Nicolò did not blame them, it was justified.

“I got the items you asked for,” Yusuf told him softly eyeing his travel companion closely, he was worried for Nicolò. “Are you going to let me in on your plan.” Nicolò looked up to him.

“Plan,” Nicolò questioned looking at Yusuf, watching as the worry graced his beautiful face.

“You have seemed distant these last few weeks,” Yusuf explained coming to stand next to Nicolò, he knew how much weighed on his friend. “I do not hold any hate for you,” Yusuf swore, then smiled. “Not any longer.”

“I know,” Nicolò stated returning his smile, but it not reaching his eyes. “You are a good friend Yusuf.” Yusuf nodded smiling at him, Nicolò cherished that smile.

It was weeks later, when Nicolò saw Yusuf in deep conversation with another man, the man’s hands on Yusuf, that he knew. When Yusuf got like that he would go off for days, claiming to need time for _reflection_ , but Nicolò knew the truth. He did not begrudge his friend, was envious in fact. He wished for Yusuf to look at him with that same want, wished that Yusuf would want him the same way, but that was not his fate. So later when Yusuf made the same claims, Nicolò only nodded. This time he did not have the energy to fake anything, he just gave a nod.

Yusuf asked him if that was fine, Nicolò wanted to speak wanted to tell him everything was fine, but he couldn’t muster the words. All he could see was what he would never be, and that felt worse than any blade Yusuf had ever used against him. He said nothing, just grabbed his few things before proceeding to walk off ignoring Yusuf’s cry of his name. Holding back the tears as he heard the man speak Yusuf’s name just before he thought about turning around. He tried not to imagine them together, he really did, but he could not help it. As he walked alone, townspeople were eyeing his clothing, but also Yusuf after that scene. He got sympathy in a few, but he could see satisfaction in most.

Nicolò was a crusader in their eyes, even in Yusuf eyes. He would say that he no longer hated him, that Nicolò after these past two decades had his trust, but he knew the truth. Yusuf did not trust him enough to tell him why he really wanted some time apart. He did not trust him enough to tell him his secrets. He just hid behind his smile that Nicolò loved to see, the smile that burned as bright as the sun. He hid behind his sword, and pretty words, and when things got too close, he’d bring up Nicolò faith. Yusuf did not trust him, nor did he truly want him by his side, they were just stuck together. 

Fate was cruel. 

XOXO

Over the last few months Nicolò had been buying clothes here and there, Yusuf found it strange but never said anything. Nicolò had collected other odds and ends as well, merchants would look at him weirdly until he would say, “no longer a Christian,” then they would nod eyes going to the cross across his chest. Yusuf would roll his eyes telling him he didn’t need to lie, Nicolò would shrug. One because he was tired of laying himself out there for Yusuf for him not to do the same. Two because in a small way it was the truth. He didn’t feel much like a Christian these days.

Nicolò had taken a vow, he had sworn his mind, his body, his sword, his very life to God and the Catholic church. For as far back as he could remember he had kept that vow. He had never let temptation sway him from the path that had been laid for him. He had been honest and true, no matter the situation. He did not lie, he did not con, nor did he cheat, he was a man of his word. Nicolò di Genova’s word was everything. He never harmed a child or laid one hand on a woman, even during his time here he had stopped those who attempt such. 

Maybe that was why it was easy for him to just leave with Yusuf, he could not handle the violence around him. War was one thing, he had justified it with his mission for God, but the way some men acted. The look of pleasure in their eyes made Nicolò sick. He was different, he knew this long ago. Learning the languages, the people’s customs, eating their food, he had wanted to know. Each day he reminded himself of his vow, a vow that his fellow brothers had seemed to have forgotten in their lust for victory, and for some their desire for power.

Yusuf left the man mere hours after Nicolò had walked off from him, unable to get the broken look out of his mind. He looked utterly destroyed Yusuf had never seen him like that. Yusuf who had killed him more times than he liked to recall, had watched the life drain from those same eyes, had never seen him like that. He spoke no words, his face broken his eyes misty with unshed tears, then he just walked off. Yusuf had tried to call his name, but that betrayed look had knocked the wind out of him. As he and his new friend had talked, then prayed, Yusuf had to find Nicolò, something was not right.

The man did not look pleased, it had been unsaid, where they were headed once the sun went down, and eyes were no longer on them. He like many others tossed out words they thought fit Nicolò, none of them knowing the man who Yusuf trusted more than any other. Yusuf was terrified, Nicolò was not himself. He had become withdrawn from almost everything. Yusuf had even tried to get him to tell stories or sing songs of his faith, but that only made things worse. With each town they came to, with each passing day Nicolò fell deeper and deeper into this state. It was like he was drowning, with no way up for air. 

Yusuf came to their camp expecting to find Nicolò. He had practiced what he was going to say, how he would make sure Nicolò didn’t feel bad for taking him away from his _reflection_. Nicolò always grew quieter after he was away, sometimes not talking to him for a day or two. Yusuf always felt horrible after, knowing Nicolò thought he was off on some spiritual journey when it was the opposite. Nicolò probably assumed Yusuf would want quiet after that, only Yusuf didn’t. Lately each tryst had left him feeling hollow and empty, he longed for Nicolò to make him forget.

Nicolò wasn’t around, he saw no sign, Yusuf flew off his horse in a panic. Had Nicolò found him out, had he left him. Dropping everything, he than began to wonder if his new _friend_ had done something after Yusuf had taken off. It would not be the first time someone tried to distract him while other went after Nicolò. Yusuf had taken his time getting here, going the longest way he could while collecting his thoughts. Yusuf had done everything he could to keep this side of himself from Nicolò, he never wanted the man to feel awkward around him. He never wanted to see the hate in Nicolò eyes when he realized what Yusuf was.

Yusuf stopped when he saw Nicolò, there was a fire going, a large fire. Nicolò was kneeling on one knee in front of the fire like he was praying, he had seen him do this before. The wind was blowing lightly, the river flowing next to him. It was clear he was about to bathe, but he had never seen him start a fire this large, nor pray before he jumped into the river to clean himself. Maybe this was something he did alone, some ritual that Yusuf had never known about. But then Yusuf watched as Nicolò stood up, watched as he starred at the fire, his face empty, Yusuf felt his heart shatter. He was scared what Nicolò was about to do. 

Did Nicolò think he was leaving him? Yusuf had never thought about what went through Nicolò’s mind when he would leave him for days then return. Acting like no time had passed, sure in the beginning he felt better, relaxed, sated. Now two decades later it was the opposite, the whole thing felt dirty. Had Nicolò been quiet because he was waiting for Yusuf to tell him they should part. Had the way he looked at Yusuf not been just joy that his travel companion was back, but that he had returned at all. 

Yusuf watched as Nicolò cried, he had heard him before when Nicolò thought he was asleep. They slept very close to another, especially on colder night. Yusuf heart broke for Nicolò, he knew the man carried the entire weight of what his people were doing here. Watching him breakdown, Yusuf could not help the guilt that soared through him. No amount of earthly pleasure could outweigh the joy Nicolò had brought to his life. A moment of gratification could not replace the light that Nicolò had shined on his once dark world. Nicolò meant more to him than that, more than he could put into any words. He knew that if Nicolò ever knew how much his heart sang of him, how much he yearned for him each passing day—he would lose him. Yusuf could not lose him.

Yusuf watched as Nicolò started to undress himself, Yusuf looked away only to find himself looking back as Nicolò sang. It was not one of his usual songs either, not the ones that Yusuf had begged him for. Yusuf had been curious as to what songs Nicolò and his people sang outside the few he’d heard in his travels. Nicolò had sang him a few, Yusuf could admit they were beautiful. He could tell that the words meant something to Nicolò, that his vow to his God, to his church was something he still held dear to his heart. To hear Nicolò singing a song, a song that Yusuf himself knew not to be of Christian origins threw him off balance. Yusuf had sung that song many times, it was one of his favorites, he had never realized Nicolò picked up the words.

Nicolò neatly took off his tops, folded them placing each garment to the side. He removed the cross he had worn all the time Yusuf had known him. It was big and ugly in Yusuf’s opinion but had been given to him as a gift when he set off on this journey. It was stained with blood, and the bottom chipped but he still wore it. Then there was another necklace, he picked it up after his first death but before he and Yusuf made a truce. It had been on a young solider who died, Nicolò had liked him. He carried his death with him, he left the war the day he buried that boy, couldn’t watch anymore young men die for nothing he had told Yusuf. 

He wore it as a reminder at the true cost of war, not the fairytale they were told.

Yusuf watched him place it in a small wooden box, a wooden box that Yusuf had picked up for him not long ago. He closed the box and placed it in the bag he kept a few other personal items. The ugly cross went on top of his shirts. Yusuf was now more confused, what was Nicolò doing. He watched as Nicolò went for his pants, they were old and ragged but still holding on. Yusuf had told him he would need to toss them soon, but he knew how hard that would be. These pants like those shirts and cross were apart of who Nicolò was, a connection to a home he could never return to. Nicolò was an outcast. A Christian who no longer believes in the orders that so many believed in. 

Yusuf bit his bottom lip as he gazed at Nicolò full body. He had of course seen glimpses before, they had lived in close quarters for over twenty years. They had bathed together so many times that neither one batted an eye at the other, they were travel companions. Yusuf refused to call him brother. To see Nicolò just standing there, with the sun setting in the distance, and the fire reflecting off his skin, was something out of a painting. Yusuf knew that he would sketch this tomorrow. He would put this beautiful man in front of him to paper, so he’ll never forget.

Then Nicolò walked into the river, Yusuf won’t lie he held his breath. 

Yusuf blushed as he was awarded a full-frontal view of Nicolò, quickly looking away. He felt like he should not be gazing upon him without his knowledge but also he could not stop himself. Nicolò was beautiful, a sculptor of perfection in living form. Yusuf wished for anything to be able to memorize each line of that hard body, to touch each soft curve with his fingertip. To sink his hands in those silky long strains of his honey color hair. Yusuf would almost consider selling his soul for one taste, just one night of Nicolò being his. But Nicolò’s body belonged to his god, and even if not he’d never look upon Yusuf in the way that he was looking upon him right now. 

Walking out of the river Nicolò shivered, the sun was going down, he should have done this earlier, but his mind was elsewhere. His mind on the reality that Yusuf was with another, that another was bringing him pleasure that he would never allow Nicolò to bring him. The type of pleasure that Nicolò might not be able to bring him. Even as a boy he was taught that was not for him. He had known his whole life his path was to follow God. Yusuf was used to knowledgeable lovers, what could someone like Nicolò offer him.

Nicolò had wondered if maybe they should part, just for the time being. Nicolò heart ached beyond words at the mere thought of parting ways with Yusuf, he knew he’d never be able to utter the words. Not until the day Yusuf tired of him and went on to someone who he could imagine being with in the way couldn’t with Nicolò. Walking in front of the fire he almost thought about tossing himself in, but there was no use for that. He would not die, fate had curse him for reasons unknown to him. So, he just stared into the flames, watching each small flame fight against each other. Wishing those flickers of embers would just consume him allowing him to crumble to ash.

Yusuf went wide eyed as Nicolò tossed his clothes and that cross into the fire with no hesitation, watched him closed his eyes then opened them to watch them burn. Soon he moved to the side to grab new clothes he brought with him. He was crying again, this time it was softer as he slipped on each article of clothing. These were not the same tears as earlier these were tear born of grief. Nicolò was morning the loss of his old life. The new clothes fit him well, the color glowed against his skin. He had picked out these clothes some weeks ago. Yusuf had rolled his eyes, playfully insulting him as he stepped out, the seller had been an attractive young man. He had glared at Yusuf before telling Nicolò the green color looked very nice on him. They both smiled when the man added “better than that cross.”

Nicolò was leaving him….

“Yusuf,” Nicolò stated seeing him sitting alone. Nicolò could not hide his surprise. “I thought you wanted to be alone.” Even to Nicolò ears that had sounded pitiful.

“I was worried about you,” Yusuf told him gently watching his friend as he moved around. “You burned your clothes.” Nicolò looked up at him giving a shrug. “Talk to me, please.”

“Those clothes were for a man that no longer exist,” Nicolò explained turning to look at him, watching Yusuf frown, Nicolò let out an annoyed breath. “I’m not a priest anymore Yusuf, the vows I made, the promises…” Nicolò began then stopped, Yusuf watching as he clenched his fist, anger darken his sea blue eyes to grey. “The man who came to these shores wearing those clothes died a long time ago,” Nicolò voice was like Yusuf had never hear it, cold, unemotional. “It’s an insult for me to wear them.” Yusuf heart sank, he was leaving.

“Are you leaving me,” Yusuf whispered watching Nicolò head shoot up, giving him a look as though he grown another head. “Are you?” Nicolò stood up not understanding his answer. “Nicolò” Yusuf voice was angry now.

“If either of us have the right to ask that in the matter of which you are speaking to me,” Nicolò stated eyes narrowing, Yusuf realized in that moment that Nicolò knew. Yusuf could not put into words what he felt. “It should be me.”

“Nicolò,” Yusuf whispered, his mouth suddenly dry. Was Nicolò leaving him because he thought Yusuf was leaving at some point. Nicolò was angry. “Talk to me, please.”

“I am tired.” Nicolò snapped, voice breaking. “I am tired of pretending those clothes mean anything to me.” Yusuf watched as Nicolò crumbled in front of him. “They mean nothing to me, not anymore. When I see them I think of all the innocent lives lost for nothing, I think of all the lies told to convince blindly devoted idiots like I was to give their lives for a war that should never have been.” Nicolò voice was harsh, Yusuf looked down, then back up. “I cannot pretend like I am the same man I was when I am not.” Yusuf nodded.

Yusuf knew that Nicolò carried the weight of the war on his shoulders. He knew every time someone looked at that large red cross, it was as though the red was blood to Nicolò. The way their eyes would look in horror or disgust. it hurt Nicolò more than he ever let Yusuf know. It was why Yusuf had asked about his faith, he wanted Nicolò to understand. He knew. He knew that Nicolò had learned from the way he had been raised. That he never looked at Yusuf or any man they came across as less of a human. He never judged based on who they pray to, or what the color of their skin was.

Nicolò had not always been the way he was now, but he had learned, he had grown as a person. He had thought them less because they had been taught that since they were young. Infidel is what his father called them, now the word rose anger in Nicolò. It was their right to come to this land, libertate the people, and bring them into the light of God. Nicolò had believed that, he had sworn that he was in the right. Then he experienced war. Then he saw the carnage that comes along with it, the blood, the gore, horrific acts against the women and children. In his mind those men had no right to call themselves anything but monsters, they deserved no reward after death.

Nicolò fought, not just Yusuf and his brethren but also his own. A life was still a life, no matter who they prayed to.

Then he died, waking up next to Yusuf, then dying again, then killing again. Took them just under a week to realize they could not kill each other. Took another six months and losing that boy, Jerimiah, who should never have been over here to get Nicolò to step away. He could still see those green eyes when he thought of Jerimiah, could hear his childlike laughter. He had been so full of life, so full of promise, and in one bloody moment he had been taken from this world. Nicolò took the necklace Jerimiah wore, it had belonged his mother. Nicolò hoped to one day return it to the family, even if he had to pretend to be the son or grandson of himself. 

“I’ll still be here,” Nicolò promised looking away, Yusuf felt his heart breaking into a million pieces. “if you want…”

“No,” Yusuf shook his head. He couldn’t even think about that right now. “Unless you want me to go.” Nicolò looked over to him, his face wrecked.

“I never want you to go Yusuf,” Nicolò admitted watching Yusuf’s face crumbled. “I understand though.” Yusuf nodded he could still hear the pain in his tone.

“I know neither of our faiths look kindly on men like me,” Yusuf mumbled still not reaching his eyes.

“Is that why you kept lying,” Nicolò asked watching Yusuf flinch, but he didn’t care. “You thought I’d…”

“I don’t know,” Yusuf admitted, not knowing what he was feeling.

“You don’t know,” Nicolò laughed bitterly, which got Yusuf to look at him. “Why don’t you trust me.” Yusuf opened his mouth, then closed it. “Do you only stay because…”

“NO!,” Yusuf snapped before he could finish it, looking at Nicolò closely.

Yusuf did not care that his voice boomed through their camp site. He did not care that Nicolò was now looking at him like he slap him across his face. Part of Yusuf wanted to do just that because how could he believe that for even one moment. They had battled side by side for over twenty years. Yusuf had battle towns for him, had been beaten for standing beside him. He had turned his back on many that would have helped him if he would just abandon Nicolò. 

Yusuf wondered how they could have so much unsaid between them. Sure Yusuf was guarded when it came to his past life, but he did not want to burden Nicolò anymore than he was. He saw the pain that he carried with him. Each time they meet someone new, it's like he takes a part of them with him. He recalled the widow's farm they stayed on for a winter during their first years together. They had helped the family rebuild, Yusuf could not handle traveling in the cold any longer. She allowed them to sleep in the barn, while joining the family for meals. The work had been hard, but she no money to pay help. The children had flocked to Nicolò, teaching him songs, and games he'd never played. When they left he carried that family with him for a long time. He had no family to miss he had said, it was the first time he had tasted what he could never have. 

How could Yusuf burden him with that. How could he tell him of his mother, that he missed like a missing limb. How he would do almost anything for just one more embrace from her. How could he explain the agony he felt as his sisters waved to him as he rode off, to never return to them. How could he speak of his older brother who he told to stay home with his wife who was soon to give birth to their first child. He would represent their family, and if needed he would die for them, so they could live on. How could tell him of the pain he felt knowing that they mourned a man who did not need mourning. 

How could Yusuf do that knowing that Nicolò would then carry that pain too?

“Do you believe that," Yusuf asked his voice now low, unsteady. "That after all this time together, I am only here with you because….”

“Why else would you keep leaving me," Nicolò asked voice trembling, eyes shining. Yusuf felt every bit of anger just evaporate.

"I've never left you," Yusuf told him walking towards him, watching Nicolò turn away. ” Nicolò, I would never leave you, we're..."

"You don't understand," Nicolò tried, praying that his breathing would slow down, that his stomach would just stop jumping. He could not do this. "We should sleep, it's getting late."

"I want to know what I don't understand," Yusuf asked, he watched Nicolò shake his no.

"Not tonight," Nicolò begged unable to look at him still. "Tomorrow." Yusuf wanted to argue, he was confused. "Please..." Yusuf exhale.

"Tomorrow," Yusuf agreed. 

XOXO

Tomorrow turned into two weeks. 

As Yusuf fear the man he had been talking with, the man who he had almost let take him to bed did not take well to his rejection. Not that Yusuf could blame him, Yusuf had been a sure thing until that moment with Nicolò. He was awoken by Nicolò, he didn't know how he did it but he always knew when they were in trouble. There was only a couple of them, the man included who Nicolò had let go. His skill with a sword was nothing compared to Nicolò's, but then they had more practice. The man growling when he realized Nicolò spoke Arabic, but still Nicolò let him go. Though Yusuf knew he saw a smile when Nicolò knock him out giving a shrug at Yusuf. 

That was his Nicolò, that smile that brightened his whole world. They were gone by the time he awoke, and there had been no sign of him as they traveled. Nicolò had thought maybe Yusuf would let it go, they could just go back to the way they were. Only Nicolò knew that Yusuf was waiting for Nicolò to bring it up, was waiting for him to decide when the time was right. Yusuf had been looking at him, watching him, like now he thought Nicolò would just up and leave. 

Nicolò had been right about the clothes, seeing him in more native clothing traveling with Yusuf had helped with his acceptance. His Arabic after twenty years was near fluent, or at least you knew he had been speaking it more than a few months. That was how they ended up in an inn for the night. Nicolò had saved a small boys life who just happened to be the grandson of the innkeeper. Nicolò had refused payment, so they offered them a room for the night, a warm bath, and a good meal.

It had been so long, that Yusuf had agreed for him, the innkeeper smiling.

"The Innkeepers youngest daughter likes you," Yusuf joked watching Nicolò blush looking away. "Now that you are no priest...."

"Yusuf," Nicolò snapped watching his friend look at him wide eyes at his hash tone. Nicolò closed his eyes, exhaling. "I came here because we were told all our earthly sins would be forgiven if we died. We would go to heaven." Yusuf frowned but nodded, he had heard this before. "I became a priest because it was expected of me as the third son." Nicolò had never told anyone this, no one knew. "I went to war because...." Nicolò stopped looking up to Yusuf whose eyes went wider than before. "Woman hold no interest for me."

"Is that what you meant when you said I didn't understand," Yusuf asked watching Nicolò very closely, Nicolò nodded no looking away. " Nicolò please."

"I love you," Nicolò told him with a deep sigh turning to look at Yusuf. 

"I love you too," Yusuf told him gently, watching Nicolò roll his eyes and stand. 

"No Yusuf," Nicolò stated eyes set on his, face crinkled up in stern concentration. "I mean that I am in love with you."

Yusuf smiled, then laughed as Nicolò gave him a weird look. Yusuf knew this may not be the best move but he did it anyway. He couldn't not do this. He leaned forward connecting his lips to Nicolò. The kiss was gentle, just a soft press of lips. Nicolò tasted wine. Yusuf swallowed Nicolò's gasp, opening his mouth up. Moaning Yusuf finally got his dream, he slide his finger through the still damn honey color silken locks. Nicolò whimpers against his lips, allowing Yusuf to pull him closer, wrapping his arms around him. It was in this moment that Nicolò remembered that the both of them were in almost no clothing. 

Nicolò moaned as Yusuf beard scratched at his face, his face that was still sensitive from the shave that he had given himself. Yusuf always liked to watch him shave, but Nicolò had talked him out of shaving. He liked his beard before, and he really liked it now. Pulling him closer his finger slide through his dark curls moaning into his mouth as they tumbled down on the bed. The sheets were nice, some of the nicest that Nicolò had laid on since being home in Genoa.

Yusuf moaned into Nicolò mouth as their bodies crushed against one another. The gentle kiss was long gone, Nicolò hands were everywhere, he needed to know every inch of Yusuf's body. It was Yusuf's turn to gasp into his mouth as Nicolò arched his body in just the right angle with Yusuf's body. "I love you Nicolò di Genova." Yusuf told Nicolò against his lips. Lifting himself up he smiled at how wrecked Nicolò looked, he was always so composed. Quickly they discarded what clothing they had one, Yusuf licked his lips as once again he saw the body that haunted him. Nicolò closed his eyes with a gasp as Yusuf's hands return, pushing his thighs apart.

Nicolò gasped fingers clinging to Yusuf's shoulders as his mouth moved to those thighs, letting out a hissed them cry as Yusuf bit down hard. "Yusuf," Nicolò cried, then moaned deeply as Yusuf took his hard leaking cock into his hand. "Oh" Nicolò cried closing his eyes, no one had ever touched him like this. Nicolò cried out covering his mouth as Yusuf wrapped his mouth around the swollen head. Yusuf laughed, tongue licking the underside of the crown as Nicolò whimpered. "It's okay love," Yusuf promised climbing up his body, Nicolò shook his head no. "It's only us," Yusuf told him kissing up his body slowly, biting down gently on his shoulder.

" I've never..." Nicolò started face heating up as Yusuf looked at him.

"I know," Yusuf whispered leaning forward to place a kiss on his lips, Nicolò whimpered again.

"No Yusuf," Nicolò tried again now mortified. "I've never..." Yusuf nodded, thumbs going to trace his swollen lips. "With anyone. Ever" It took a moment, then it hit Yusuf.

"Do you want me to stop," Yusuf asked softly, as everything started to make sense for him. Nicolò shook his head no. "Tell me if you do."

Nicolò eyes closed as Yusuf took both of their cock into his hands, Nicolò had never felt anything like this in his life. The way Yusuf moved them together, the way his callused hand felt, how he knew where to twist that had Nicolò grabbing the sheets. The way he dropped his head to kiss along his neck, nipping at skin that Nicolò would never have thought to be sensitive. How he would just slow down, then speed up, his thumb massaging the head in just the right spot.

Nicolò knew he was being loud, maybe too loud. 

When he tried to cover his mouth Yusuf had stop telling him no. Yusuf wanted to hear him, he had dreamed of this for so long, he wanted to know every sound that came out of that beautiful mouth. Letting his own cock go, he started to jerk Nicolò off slowly, twisting at the head, Nicolò seemed to like that--a lot. Moving back down he took the head into his mouth again, then let Nicolò slide to the back of his throat. Nicolò was gone, he was babbling in a mix of Italian and Arabic, which honestly did more for Yusuf then his hand had been doing moment before. With a couple more flicks of his tongue Nicolò was coming down his throat with his hand in Yusuf's hair. 

Yusuf climbed back up Nicolò body, starting to jerk himself off at the sight of the man he loved more than life. The man that was laying underneath of him, completely spent, looking up at him like he was the god he'd been looking for. Seconds later Nicolò much larger hand replaced Yusuf's. Yusuf face lost its cocky smile as Nicolò mimicked what Yusuf had been doing, but once again Nicolò did better than Yusuf. Or maybe it only felt better because he knew it was Nicolò's hand. Yusuf let out a hoarse cry as Nicolò thumbnail dipped into the slit. Yusuf lost control of his body, he just crumbled down. Later he could be embarrassed right now, he just wanted -Nicolò's hands on him.

Nicolò rolled them over so Yusuf was now underneath him, he looked like every sin he'd been warned about. Nicolò bent down without thinking, giving him a small lick moaning as Yusuf's taste hit his tongue. After a few more licks, Nicolò wrapped his lips around the head tightly. " Nicolò" Yusuf gasped hand pulling at his hair, which Nicolò liked, his eyes looking up at Yusuf, "OH" Yusuf whimpered. Yusuf could say that no dream had ever been this sweet. His orgasm hit him seconds later, he had to close his eyes because if he watched Nicolò he would die, and with his luck it would stick this time. 

Moments later Yusuf opened his eyes, smiling as Nicolò smiled back at him bashfully.

"You love me," Nicolò whispered closing his eyes as Yusuf cupped his face gently.

"Sometimes I feel like I went to war just to find you," Yusuf admitted smiling as Nicolò kissed his palm. 

"The other men," Nicolò questioned watching Yusuf frown, moving Nicolò's hair out of the way.

"Never had my heart," Yusuf swore bringing Nicolò down to him for a kiss, smiling as Nicolò smiled against his lips. "You love me." Yusuf mumbled against his lips.

"Until our last day," Nicolò swore pressing another kiss to his lips, Yusuf sighed contently.

"You truly think we'll go together," Yusuf asked, Nicolò had said this many time before but...

"We are one Yusuf al-Kaysani," Nicolò told him voice leaving no room for argument. "From that first day to our last day."

Yusuf smiled, who was he to argue. 

The End


End file.
